


Thank You, Briony

by sleeponrooftops



Category: Atonement (2007), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t believed his mother when she told him that they weren’t truly pureblooded, that the first Black had been born from two Muggles, and now here he was, stuck in the middle of the birth of his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth of the Blacks

Hermione plopped down on the couch, nudging Ginny with her shoulder.  The redhead looked up, flashed her a smile, and went back to her three foot essay.  She watched her write for a bit, absorbing the words, and she couldn’t help but grin.  She knew Ginny was smart, and sometimes she just loved talking to her about school.  It was so different from her relationship with the boys.  Everything was different.  Ever since the end of the war, things she’d considered so common seemed so different now.  She didn’t have to worry about what scheme the boys would have to cook up to get out of being tortured by Malfoy or ridding the world of Voldemort.  Life seemed so _simple_ now.

 

“Earth to Hermione,” Ginny laughed, waving a hand in front of her, “Doing that thinking about the war before and after thing again?”  Hermione smiled.  Ginny always knew her so well.

 

“I guess so.  Look, do you know where Harry is?”

 

“I was about to ask you two the same question,” Ron said as he jumped down the last step from the boys’ dormitory, “Well?”

 

“He left with his broom about an hour ago, but he said not to bother him.  I think he just wanted some peace and quiet to think,” Ginny admitted, shrugging and turning her attention back to her paper.

 

Hermione sighed, frowning.  Her fingers flitted to her pocket, and the expression on her face deepened.  She badly wanted to share this discovery with Harry but not with Ron.  This was something she had first experienced with Harry, and they still hadn’t told Ron about it, even nearly five years later.  “I think I’m just going to go to the library for a bit, then,” she finally said, and Ron rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course you are.  I guess I’ll just go find Seamus or something, then.  Later.”  He left through the portrait hole, and Hermione nodded, standing.

 

“I’m off, then.  See you later,” she said, waving to Ginny before exiting after Ron.  She took a different route than him, and she was just reaching for the door handle to the library when she heard her name.  Draco Malfoy was coming her way, and Hermione couldn’t help the large smile that spread on her face.

 

Draco was another thing that had changed with the war.  It was as though he was two people, a Malfoy and Draco.  The Malfoy had taken over him during the war, allowing him to hide beneath a skin of hatred, but, as soon as Harry held out the hand of acceptance, Draco surfaced, gasping for breath, and he begged for forgiveness.  For the first little while, Hermione was continually baffled.  The first time had been over the summer, in July, when Harry walked into the Weasley’s living room while she was visiting, a letter in his hand and his jaw unhinged.  He was usually very calm and collected, but now he stood before them, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and George, an incredulous look on his face.

 

“Is everything okay?” she remembered asking, and he’d just shook his head and dropped the letter on the coffee table before them.

 

_Harry –_

_I know this will seem strange, and you may not even open the envelope, but I’m just going to trust, going to trust that you will.  I’m so sorry, Harry.  I’m sorry for everything I ever did, everything I ever said.  I’m sorry for all the things I planned, for all the things I wished, for everything I ever tried to do.  I wish I could take everything back, though I know that if I did, I wouldn’t be who I am, I wouldn’t have discovered honesty and faith and love.  I wouldn’t have found my heart, and I owe everything to you.  Thank you for accepting my family, even after all we’ve done.  I’m sorry.  I’d like to start over, to accept the hand you extended.  I don’t know if you’ll ever let me into your life or even allow me the trust and respect of a friend, but I want you to know that I hold you in the highest respect, and I will never forget how kind and forgiving you have been to me.  I’d like to meet with you in a comfortable environment, somewhere neither of us feel threatened, and I’d like to talk, if you wouldn’t mind.  You can even bring Hermione and Ron, if you want to.  I’d like to start over with all of you, Ginny and Luna, even.  If you read this, thank you._

_\- Draco Malfoy_

After the first time, it just kept happening.  Harry went alone the first time, and he came back with a smile.  The next six times that summer, they went together, sometimes the three of them, sometimes with Ginny, and a friendship slowly started to form that that they always suspected highly unlikely.  Hermione had been the largest surprise of their group, taking to Draco much faster than the rest of them and accepting him into her life quite quickly.

 

“I haven’t seen you in some time.  Not up to dangerous things, I hope,” she teased as he caught up to her and they headed inside together.

 

“No, just been keeping to myself lately.  My father is ill,” he admitted, shrugging, “Madame Pince, lovely as ever.”

 

They made their way into the back where Hermione stopped off to grab a book that she needed for one of her essays, and they were in the middle of an aisle when she looked over at him.  “How is he sick?”

 

“They don’t really know yet, but my mother has been really upset, and so I’ve had to deal with her.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he shrugged it off, “So, what brings you to the library other than typical Hermione business?”

 

She smiled.  “Hermione business,” she grumbled before pushing away from the shelf and slipping around to another aisle.  He followed her, and it suddenly occurred to her that she could share this experience with _him_.  It would be novel, and he would appreciate it more than Ron because Ron would be angry that Harry and she hadn’t shared it with him, but Draco, Draco would be interested and excited.

 

“What are you smirking about?” he prodded, appearing suddenly at her side.

 

“Would you mind if I showed you something?  I was going to show Harry, but he’s already seen it.”  He shrugged, and so Hermione grabbed his hand and led him into the farthest recesses of the library, surprising both of them.  When they finally settled on one of the typically unused couches, she let go of his hand, put the book down, and reached into her pocket, grasping the gold and glass.  The chain slipped out of her pocket while the small device felt cool against her palm.  “I didn’t think I still had it,” she murmured, smiling as the chain finally fell from her pocket and her fingers curled into a loose fist.  “I was cleaning, and I found it.”

 

She unwound her fingers again, revealing the delicate time turner to him.  He gasped, reaching out one pale finger to caress the cold, gold metal, and she smiled.  “Harry and I used it third year.  McGonagall gave it to me because I wanted to take classes that were at the same time, and she thought I could handle the pressure.  But Dumbledore knew I had it, and he gave us a mission.  Well, he didn’t exactly _give_ it to us,” she laughed, “He more hinted and implied at what we should do.  Do you remember how Buckbeak somehow escaped from his execution and then Sirius wasn’t to be found when the Dementor’s went to kiss him?  That was us.  We went back in time and saved both of them.”  Draco gaped, and Hermione nodded, grinning.  “I know, it’s crazy.  This is going to sound crazy, too,” she sighed, “But I want to see if it still works.  Just an hour, maybe, I just want to see if it works.”

 

“Do you mind if I come along?”  His question surprised her, but then he elaborated, “I’ve read about time turners before, and they’ve always interested me.  We could cause all sorts of havoc in that hour.”

 

“Absolutely not,” she grinned, pushing him playfully.  A comfortable silence fell over them for a minute, and Draco smiled.  He reached out, carefully taking the chain in his hand.

 

“Just an hour, so just one turn?” he asked as he placed it over their necks.  His fingers moved before she could say anything, before she could warn him that she felt like she was going to sneeze, before she could stop him from turning the small hourglass.  And when she did sneeze, it jostled them, and his fingers slipped.

 

Everything around them blurred, and Hermione grabbed hold of Draco’s forearms, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt like her stomach was being squeezed and wrung.  This didn’t feel like the times she’d gone back for class or even the time she’d gone back for Buckbeak and Sirius.  This felt strange, this hurt her insides, and this was taking too long.  What had she done?  Where were they going to end up?

 

It happened suddenly.  She felt as though she’d been dropped out of the sky, and as though she’d crashed into something hard and damp.  Hermione groaned, forcing her eyes open as she pushed up on her hands.  Green and brown blurs met her eyes.  She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and, when they did, she realized it was grass and dirt.  Something hard and damp.

 

“Draco!” she screamed, scrambling up and spinning around to find him.  He was just sitting up and holding his head.

 

“Where the hell are we?” he groaned, putting the heels of his palms over his eyes.

 

“I have no idea.  I—” Hermione cut herself off as she moved her eyes north, and her jaw dropped.  
  


This _manor_ stood before them, looming high into the sky beyond the beautifully kept, grassy lawn that they had fallen on.  Trim bushes and gorgeous flowers, blooming of all colors, decorated a stone railing that led to an elegant stone set of stairs.  The manor was nothing like Hermione had ever seen; the Malfoy Manor paled in comparison to this.  Dozens of windows lined the front of the… _castle_ , and the architecture was just magnificent.

 

“Hermione,” Draco suddenly said, following her gaze, “Where are we?”

 

“I… I have no idea,” she mumbled, blinking, “Uh.  Oh God, Draco, I don’t know what to do.”  She could feel the panic rising in her, and then a thought struck her.  They had been separated.  Something had happened to the time turner.  Frantic and her chest heaving, Hermione stumbled around, searching desperately for it.  Draco stopped her in mid-search, his grip tight.

 

“The chain broke.  We can still use it,” he said, opening his other hand and revealing the severed chain and time turner.

 

“One of us may get splinched,” she moaned, “We can’t risk it, Draco.  One of us could die.  We don’t know where we are, what time it is, something could go terribly wrong.  We need to fix the chain so we can travel safely.  Maybe we’re fair back enough that there’s a goldsmith or something.”  As soon as she said it, she felt the laughter bubbling inside of her, and she was so panicked that she actually let it out, bursting forth with hysterical giggles.  Draco stared at her like she was insane, but it seemed infectious, for in seconds, he had joined her.

 

“Okay,” she said, gasping for breath, “What if we go up to the house and act like we’re lost travelers?  We can ask the date, where we are, how to get somewhere useful, how does that sound?”  But Draco wasn’t listening anymore.  He’d stopped laughing and instead was staring up at the manor again.  “Is everything okay?” she asked, touching his arm.

 

“It just looks so familiar,” he said with a frown, rubbing his face in frustration, “I can’t place it, but I feel like I know it.”

 

“You can’t.  Unless we’re somewhere that we actually know and in a time not too far back.  There’s no telling how many rotations the time turner spun, though.”

 

Draco picked himself up before holding out his hand to Hermione, and, together, they brushed themselves off and started their trek up the sloping lawn.  It was unnerving, though, to think that he knew where they were, that he knew this manor, and, piece by piece, frames flashed through his mind, memories from when he was little, and they were almost connected into a completed puzzle as they climbed up the stairs and reached the front door.

 

A girl answered their knock, a girl with short blonde hair that rested along her jaw with a black bobby pin that pulled a small fringe away.  She had shocking blue eyes and a stern, unblemished face.  She glared at them, and she seemed almost hostile.

 

“Hello,” Hermione began, “My name is—”

 

“Moira Lesson,” Draco interrupted her, “And I’m her brother, Alexander.”  Hermione stared at him, but he just ignored her.  “We’re lost.  Your house is the first we’ve seen for miles.  This is going to sound really strange, but what year is it?”

 

“Today is August third, 1935.  That _is_ a strange thing to ask.”

 

“What country is this?” Draco gasped.

 

“You’re in Surrey, England.  Who are you?”

 

“Travelers.  We’ve lost our way.  May we use your phone?”

 

“Okay.”

 

And that was it.  The little girl left into the house, and Hermione just stared at him until he finally turned his gaze to her.  “Hold on.  Just hold on one second,” he managed to choke out.  He stepped into the house, and he closed his eyes.  He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, describing everything.

 

_“I’ve only been there a handful of times, but it’s beautiful.  After he’d taken the surname Black, Phineas found the Tallis’.  Cecilia and Robert only loved once, and she hid the baby from everyone.  She gave him to an adorable family the day after he was born, in a county far, far from Surrey, but, when the war had ended, he set out to find where his true home was, and Briony was the only one left.  She told him everything.”_

He hadn’t believed his mother when she told him that they weren’t truly pureblooded, that the first Black had been born from two Muggles, and now here he was, stuck in the middle of the birth of his family.


	2. Cecilia's Delicacy

“Are you coming?”

 

Draco was shocked back to reality by the little girl’s voice, but, for a moment, all he could do was stare.  This was Briony, the Briony that had unveiled the shadow of the Black family’s origin.  He felt unnerved by her, and it was only when she cleared her throat and glared at him that he found the function to respond, “Where is your family?”

 

“Cecilia is out by the pool with Leon and Mister Paul Marshall.  Mother is upstairs in her room.  Did you want to use the phone?”

 

“Yes, we’re coming.  Could you please ask your mother to come downstairs?”

 

“No.”  And that was it.  Briony disappeared off without another word, and Draco sighed.

 

However, this opened Hermione’s mouth.  “What the hell is going on?” she hissed, shoving him.

 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, turning to her before palming his face, “It’s a long story.”

 

“We have time.”

 

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind them, interrupting Draco’s oncoming explanation, and they both turned to find a beautiful woman.  She had a long, flowing blue dress that clung to her wet body, and a bathing suit was very visible underneath.  Her wet curls hung around her face, and she was tall and thin.

 

“Briony let us in,” Draco quickly said, stepping toward her.  In one fluid motion, he took Hermione’s hand and squeezed it so she didn’t say anything.  “We were lost and came to the door.  She invited us in to use the phone, but then she disappeared.  My name is Alexander,” he introduced, sweeping up her hand and kissing the back of it, “Alexander Lesson.  This is my sister, Moira.  You must be the lovely Cecilia.”

 

“Yes,” she said, taking her hand back and arching an eyebrow at him.  The compliment went unnoticed by her.  “Why don’t we get you a change of clothes?  You must be blistering in all those layers,” she went on suddenly, her tone changing, “You can stay the night, and then we’ll see about finding your way home tomorrow.  Is that alright?”

 

“That’s most kind of you.  Thank you,” Hermione responded, smiling.

 

“Right this way, then.”  Cecilia led them through a series of complicated turns and hallways and staircases that they could barely keep up with until finally, at last, they reached an elegant and spacious room.  “This is just a few doors down from my room, so, if you need anything, let me know, and I’ll tell mother who you are.”  She left them, then, and they cautiously stepped inside, only to have her return in barely ten minutes with a handful of clothes.

 

“Explain,” Hermione said, glaring at him as the door shut again.

 

He sighed before sitting on the bed.  “It’s complicated.  You know who Phineas Black is, right?”  When she nodded, he went on, “He was the first of the Black family, the first pureblood that all of the Noble House has thought was that, pureblooded.  He actually has two Muggle parents.  His childhood and birth was always shrouded in mystery, though mainly because those, like Sirius’ parents, who believed in Voldemort’s beliefs, hid the truth from everyone.  Everyone knows, though; we just don’t make it public.  His Muggle parents lived here, in this very house, Hermione, and we just met his mother.”

 

“Briony?” she exclaimed in disbelief.

 

“Heavens no,” he laughed, “Cecilia Tallis and Robbie Turner.  The day after he was born, Cecilia brought him to a family far away and told them his name was Phineas Black.  She wanted to make sure that no one ever knew of the baby.  We don’t really know why, but we do know that something happened that separated her and Robbie.  Tonight, this dinner they’re having, it’s the night Phineas was conceived, the only night they ever spent together.  Do you understand the severity of what I’m telling you?”

 

“We’ve just come back in time to the birth of your mother’s family.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

They sat there in silence for a while until Hermione heaved a sigh and stood from the bed, separating their clothes.  “We might as well make the best of this,” she answered his curious look, “I mean, we just have to stay out of the way and make sure that their night actually happens.  Otherwise, you’ll become… well, extinct.”

 

Draco stared at her for a long moment before nodding and taking his pile.  “I’ll use the bathroom,” he murmured before heading out of the room and into the connected bathroom.  He set the pile of clothes on the toilet and braced his hands on the sink, dropping his head.  He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.  Cecilia was beautiful, he couldn’t deny, and there she was, the woman that had created his entire existence.  He wanted to know her story, wanted to know everything about her, but he knew he couldn’t ask, couldn’t risk separating her from Robbie.  Robbie.  He so badly wanted to meet him.

 

He snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head before he ran the water and splashed cold relief over his face.  When he finished, he changed into the clothes he’d been provided with: handsome black pants and a button-up white suit shirt.  Over that he was given a black suit jacket and a black bowtie.  He used the water again to fix his hair, slicking it back so that it parted and stayed put.  He knocked on the door and waited for Hermione to allow him entrance before he stepped back into the room, his new black shoes clicking on the floor.

 

His breath caught in his throat, however, as he took in the gorgeous woman in front of him.  Hermione had braided her hair so that it curved around her head and wrapped into a bun in the back.  A pink, strapless dress fell around her, light sparkles dusting over it.  She smiled at him, clearly nervous, but he quickly abated them, stepping forward and pushing a loose curl away from her face; a few of them fell fashionably, which he admired.

 

“You look… beautiful,” he finished softly, and she blushed.

 

He couldn’t deny her the compliment.  He also couldn’t deny the slow-building warmth pooling in his belly, a warmth he’d grown accustomed to with Hermione.  She always made his smiles a little brighter and his stomach twist and turn a little more.  It had been a sudden revelation, and it seemed to come almost hand-in-hand with befriending the Golden Trio.  He’d suddenly discovered that she was _beautiful_ and he quite enjoyed being around her and with her, almost at the same time he’d discovered that he actually _liked_ being friends with them.

 

The moment passed, however, and Draco stepped away, clearing his throat.  There was an awkward space of silence until Hermione moved toward the window, her steps quiet and ghost-like.  “Cecilia is so delicate,” she murmured, and Draco smiled.  “Are you nervous about meeting Robbie?”  He didn’t respond at first; he almost felt like he couldn’t.  Robbie.  The name struck various chords in him, of fear, of anxiety, of want.  Before he could answer, however, Hermione was sighing and making her way to the door.  “Let’s look for a library.  Maybe we can find something.”

 

“Find something about what?” he laughed, following her.

 

“Oh, just something interesting to keep us occupied.”  He smiled, but he went with her regardless.

 

\--

 

Robbie Turner frowned and took in a long drag of his cigarette before allowing his arm to balance on the porcelain side of the bathtub.  His mind tumbled with different sounds and emotions, but his thoughts were void.  He felt like he was a blank slate, a white expanse of nothingness.  Gunfire and airplanes rumbled beyond his eyelids, and a tangle of terror and hope warped him inside out.

 

The distant sounds of his mother working downstairs started to pierce through his _bang bang bang_ , and he sighed, sinking lower and lower until he couldn’t breathe anymore and his ears were flooded with water.  He opened his eyes, and the watery ceiling met his eyes until he gasped for breath and he pushed himself up, the ceiling suddenly becoming clear.  He imagined his father flying overhead, preparing for battle, and he sighed.

 

He took one last, short drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out and pulling his hands over his face and through his hair.  Something felt different today, something was giving him the confidence to do more than just provoke Cecilia or pass her silently in the halls, something was telling him to pursue her, for today would be different.

 

Robbie shuddered and straightened until his back was resting against the cool, white porcelain.  He needed to dry off and dress if he was going to be on time for dinner at the Tallis’.  Tallis.  Cecilia.  Something felt different today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter-recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything Atonement-recognizable belongs to Ian McEwan.
> 
> I’m so sorry this came so late. If you follow Grazed Knees, you’ll have already seen this AN, but, for those of you who don’t, here it is. I’ve finally found the inspiration to start my third novel, and, as terrible as it sounds, it comes first before fanfiction for me. I’m still writing fanfiction, rest assured; it just took a backseat for a moment until I had the second to finish writing this chapter. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up sooner, but I can’t make any promises. The only reason I can update GK on time is because I finished writing it some months ago, and I’m doing this as I go along. But, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and don’t forget to review!


	3. Full Circle

It was time.

 

Hermione took in a long breath, smoothing her dress before she took her seat next to Draco, across from Cecilia and Robbie.  Briony was to Draco’s right, and she looked _murderous._ She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed.  Coming down the stairs, she’d expected to go out onto the porch and take in the night air, the illuminated garden, the Tallis manor shimmering in the moonlight.  Instead, she’d caught Briony just disappearing into the library.  The door was already cracked open when she went inside, and Hermione, curious, stepped closer, listening.  What she heard made her breath catch.

 

She was quick to hurry away toward the door to do exactly as she’d planned as Briony made a beeline for the door again.  She was just exiting the manor as Briony exited the library.  Draco found her like this, her cheeks flushed and her breathing quick.

 

“Well, you’ve been conceived,” was all she’d said when he pushed a curl out of her face and arched an eyebrow.  He hadn’t said a word, which was probably what made it worse.  He hadn’t even met Robbie yet, and she knew he’d wanted to, and now his first real, tangible thought about him was that the Black family’s conception was in a library, in secrecy.  And so sitting for dinner was tense and strange.

 

Mrs. Tallis set about introducing Draco and Hermione and their sudden arrival while Briony glared venomously at Robbie.  Dinner conversation was filled with snide remarks and subtle hints.  Robbie and Cecilia didn’t say much, at first, but then Briony was banished to her room, and the air almost visibly thinned.  And, for the first time, Robbie turned his attention to Draco.

 

He was a handsome man, quite so, in fact, with soft-looking brown hair that was swept back, perfect and smooth.  His face lacked any solid lines, making him look, if possible, even handsomer.  His youth shone like a beacon, the round curves of his jaw and not-so-thin mouth.  He was something to look at, which Hermione felt herself doing more than she ought to.  And his eyes, bluer than any she’d ever seen.  It was difficult not to get lost in them.  He was dressed for the occasion, as well, in clothes so very similar to Draco’s.

 

Cecilia, too, was far more delicate and beautiful than Hermione had first imagined her.  Her short brown curls were pinned back a diamond-studded jewel, one solitary curl framing her face.  Her green dress looked like silk hanging precariously from her shoulders, but she looked absolutely stunning in it.  Much unlike Robbie, her face was jagged and hard, from the strict lie of her nose to the angry furrow of her eyebrows.  Hermione found her enticing.

 

“So, where is that you and Moira are from?” Robbie asked, curiously folding his fingers together in a very Dumbledore-like fashion.

 

“Just outside of London.  We were travelling for a bit of adventure and fell asleep on our train on accident.  We ended up here and were walking for some time.”

 

Robbie nodded, clearly satisfied.  Hermione smiled as he went on to get to know Draco, asking about what business he worked in, whether he’d been asked to join or not, and what it was like living by the bustle of the city.  Draco seemed immensely pleased to be conversing with his great something grandfather, and Hermione just smiled.  Cecilia even partook some in the conversation, and all was well until Briony burst back into the room with a note from the twins saying they’d run away.  They were her cousins, come to stay while their parents divorced, and, though Hermione knew she couldn’t stand them, she also saw this as a way to separate Robbie and Cecilia.

 

Immediately, the dinner party dispersed, running off in different search groups to find them.  Hermione barely saw them leave the house, however, for Draco was pulling her away from everyone and up the stairs.  His steps were quick, frantic.  He pushed them into their room, out of breath and his eyes wild.

 

“What’s wrong?  Shouldn’t you be outside looking for the boys with the others?” she asked, and then she saw how frightened and open his face was.  She could read every emotion he was feeling at the moment, something she’d never witnessed before with him.  “Draco, talk to me,” she whispered, putting her hands on either side of his face, stepping close to him.

 

He looked at her for a long moment, and Hermione should have realized the way his eyes continued to flicker over her lips.  “This is it,” he said, his voice hoarse, “This is when they’re separated.  I can’t go out there because I can’t chance changing that.  It _needs_ to happen; otherwise, I’ll never be born.  The Black family will disappear from existence.”

 

And Hermione should have realized that this idea was what would set Draco off into a frenzy of emotions.  The mere thought at his friendship never occurring with this beauty before him erased all doubts he’d ever had, and he lunged forward, pressing his mouth to hers.

 

Hermione didn’t respond at first, too shocked to truly comprehend his actions.  And then his tongue slipped along her bottom lip, and she came to life, her grip tightening on his face and her mouth bursting with excitement and movement.  They kissed fervently, and Hermione’s mind was far away, back to hearing Robbie and Cecilia in the library, back to understanding Draco’s shock at meeting Briony, back to their own sounds in the library, laughing and flirting, back to the butterflies she’d kept suppressing everytime Draco came by her way, and she stayed far away as she tugged at his clothes and desperately tried to slip out of hers.

 

It seemed almost appropriate that such an event should occur the same night the Black’s birth had.  But they didn’t make love.  They came close, but the first gasp of bare skin brought Hermione’s far away mind back, and she stopped them, her hands on Draco’s chest.

 

“Not yet,” was all she said, and he looked into her eyes, and he understood.  Not here, not in this time, not this early in their blossoming relationship.  And so they dressed in their old school clothes, and Hermione took the time turner from Draco’s pocket, fitting it over their necks.  She wasn’t sure how to do this, but she just closed her eyes, brought herself close to Draco, and spun the time turner.

 

She felt like she was being pulled in a million different directions, and, just like the lawn, they hit the floor abruptly.  Hermione looked up just in time to see herself sneeze and the time turner jostle on the couch, and then they were gone, and they were right here, sitting up and brushing themselves off on the floor.  Draco helped her up, and a smile lit her face as he reached over and kissed her delicately.

 

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand.  She just smiled and followed him out, fingers interlaced.

 

\--

 

Cecilia Tallis looked down at the little baby in her arms before sighing and kneeling.  She left him at the foot of the door, bundled up against the chill, and she banged her knuckles on the door before disappearing around the side of the house and slinking off into the darkness.  No one would ever know.

 

_I’m sorry to leave him like this, but I know that you will take better care of him than I shall ever.  My heart does not belong to him, but to his father, and it shall be my dying duty to find him and bring his name to justice.  His name is Phineas, Phineas Black, and he is beautiful.  Please take care of him.  Be kind to him and never speak of us until it’s almost too late.  Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter-recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything Atonement-recognizable belongs to Ian McEwan.
> 
> Well, that’s it, in case you hadn’t noticed, blah. I’m sorry this was so short, but my attention span for it was dwindling quickly, and I didn’t want to leave it abandoned at some point. Plus, it was supposed to be short, and I think it took the turns it needed to. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter-recognizable belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything Atonement-recognizable belongs to Ian McEwan.
> 
> This idea just came to me suddenly. My friend recently saw the movie for the first time, and it got me thinking about it again. If you’ve read Grazed Knees, you know how much I adore McEwan’s work and especially this novel. I was also inspired by a fanfic I read today where Draco and Hermione travelled accidentally into the middle of the London Blitz, and I thought it was a really cool idea, putting them in the past. And so I decided I wanted to try it. This isn’t going to be long, probably just a short story, not even a novella, but I hope you guys enjoy it.


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